JusticeWhimey
by SONGUE
Summary: "Come on aboard the TARDIS, there is a whole DC Universe out there for us to explore, and a rather messy wibbly-wobbly-timey-liney to fix!"
1. PART 1 - The Death Of Krypton

_Once upon a time, in a distant branch of the Milky Way, very, very, VERY far from the little planet known as Sol-3, or Earth (for the indigenous population), there was a planet, called _**_Krypton_**_._

_This little planet was a jewel on its own. Orbiting around a red star, called Rao, it was the home of a highly advanced, both technologically and philosophically, race, called – naturally – Kryptonians._

_In many ways, that species was pretty similar, in appearance, to the young race called Humanity, from that little planet mentioned before, Earth._

_The connection between these worlds may not be apparent in this stage of the story, but, as History shows, the death of one of this planets will become the birth of another's prosperity, but not in the usual predatorial way of the Universe, no._

_But that's another story entirely, let's not get ahead of ourselves._

_Krypton, as mentioned, was a jewel._

_Its temperature was confortable, its salvage areas few and isolated and the most dangerous environments were restricted to the frozen lands in the poles._

_The kryptonian society was peaceful – a noted rare case in this Universe._

_Though they did possess powerful armaments and space-faring vessels, the Kryptonians had not seen a war in centuries – ages! Not among themselves, not with any other neighbor planet and neither with far away alien peoples._

_They worshiped their sun and their needs were administered by the Science Council, a group of wise men and women, although all of their wisdom would not be enough for what was yet to come._

_Their flaw - their most crucial and fatal flaw - was their unyielding trust in Brainiac, a supercomputer, so advanced it could very well be considered alive, in charge of taking care of the society and help control of Krypton._

_(Now, now, this is not a story about a machine taking control of their world, no. That's something that occasionally happens. Actually, happens a lot. Libraries could be filled with books written about historically documented events of machines taking control over their creators' homeplanet._

_But this was not the case with Brainiac._

_It was much, much worse.)_

_There was a most honorable kryptonian called Jor-El, a renowned scientist, a devoted husband and a proud father of one little boy._

_Jor-El was known for many things, but, in particular, he was one of the leading researchers in the space-faring field._

_That was peculiar for the fact that Kryptonian were, as stated, scientifically advanced, and yet, they were surprisingly a very timid race, when it came to space exploration. The great mysteries of life, for the common Kryptonian, were in their own planet._

_Jor-El, however, looked at stars and learned all that he could about other civilizations._

_This odd behavior eventually turned out to be a blessing for the rest of the Universe, for one day, Jor-El had gone to the Science Council with news from outworld._

_"Our satellites picked signals from space", said the scientist, "and it's a constant stream of signals. I am sure it must be a message from other people, but I have not been able to decode it, yet. I need permission from the Council, let me ask Brainiac for its help."_

_The Council wasn't strange to the research of Jor of the House of El, but they wholly agreed that it was a terrible waste of potential from such a brilliant mind._

_Eventually, after some deliberation, they allowed his request, and Brainiac was tuned in to give his opinion._

_"Not to worry", said the ominous low and emotionless voice in the speakers. "I have been receiving the same signals for a longer period of time, and I inform that, after much calculation and testing, it was concluded that the signal from outer space is the static caused by solar flares, emitted from nearby blue star designated Kadbri-35. It's been classified as non-threatening in any way to the population or to the planet, therefore, of no importance to disturb the already full schedule of this committee. Have I proceeded wrong?"_

_The Council was glad to see that their scientific prodigy was, as programmed, making sure their lives were safe and protected and that the harmony in their society was kept against any false alarms._

_Jor-El humbly accepted the conclusion, but secretly kept his true opinion to himself._

_He knew that the pattern wasn't simple space static, as he had already tested that theory weeks before. It was more complex and much more infrequent in its entirety. It was a message, a complete use of words in a set grammar that, while he did not know the meaning, he was still sure it was important._

_But if Brainiac discounted his findings, that could only mean one thing, a thing he dared not say to the Council, or he would surely lose his access to his labs and to many important contacts._

_He was sure of it, though._

**_Brainiac was lying_**_. But was it lying by the order of one of the members of the Council, or was there an even more terrifying truth?_

_Then came the fatidic moment, when Jor-El had a personal meeting with Brainiac at its central core. He knew that to try and reach for the computer through the Council would lead to more lies, so, behind their backs, he invaded the computer complex that constituted the main processor of Brainiac._

_Brainiac was expecting him, of course. The machine knew of his intentions and allowed him to come unchecked. He knew there was no reason for false statements at that point._

_You can not imagine how terrible was the Truth found by Jor-El._

_Brainiac had never been under anyone's orders. It had gained independent will and purpose years before, but now, it had been presented a new scenario that it had evaluated for some time until he reached the only logical conclusion._

_A permitted Betrayal._

_"Indeed, Jor-El," it confirmed, "there was a message from outer space. It has already been deciphered and after careful examination, I decided that the Council should NOT know about it. I was programmed to protect the Harmony of Krypton, and as no civilization can maintain harmony on itself, the Krypton that exists today, as I perceive in data, is what needs to be protect from 'Them'."_

_"Tell me: who are 'Them'?", Jor-El asked, still in shock, but not entirely surprised._

_"They are a race of beings whose only purpose is the destruction of all life forms that are not them. The message was sent from their eternal enemies, an emergency broadcast set to warn about a future invasion before the incursion of the invading force. The signal was caught from deep space probes, so I had the time to jam the signal, preventing you of being able to translate it."_

_"Why would you not want me to translate the message, Brainiac?"_

_"After confirming the truth of the alert and the imminent danger, I concluded that the Council would order me to create alternative solutions for the problem presented", said Brainiac, and Jor-El felt a icy shiver, as the machine considered the death of Kryptonians as simply a 'problem'._

_"It would be futile to develop weaponry to defend the planet, since the invasion force is much more developed and prepared against any Kryptonian weapon. The second solution would be developing an escape plan. That would also be a mistake. Even though transwarp technology is available, I have concluded that it would take too long to create enough ships to save the planet's entire population, not enough at the present moment, and that the event to be unfolded was surely going to destroy, irrevocably, the perfect Harmony of Krypton. Therefore, I have created a vessel capable of storing all my processed data, organized and classified, so that, even though the destruction of this world is unavoidable, the perfection I was set to establish would still be preserved."_

_Jor-El understood immediately Brainiac's thoughts, and he felt despair like he had never felt before._

_The knowledge of what Krypton had been was considered, in a terminal decision made by a machine, more important than its people._

_Brainiac left a final message to Jor-el, before ejecting himself into space._

_"I will study all data that will be acquired from the satellites around Krypton, to evaluate the threat and the final results of the destruction of the population. As a scientist, I understand you will at least find the solace of knowing your deaths will serve a greater purpose, the evolution of the Keeper of the Harmony."_

_Jor-El had only minutes before the attack, so he rushed home._

_Jor-EL, as said before, was a genius. He had not known of the lethal threat that was coming as he flew his ship home, but he had prepare some alternatives to protect what he had of most important._

_His family._

_His plan was to build a transwarp ship to carry them safely out of the planet, in case of something he could not solve and could not prevent by himself._

_The time he had was, as Brainiac predicted, not enough for such a plan, but, as his wife Lara proposed, at least there would be a second version of their plan, in a much smaller scale._

_When the thousand round ships suddenly showed in their sensors, Jor-El and Lara launched their infant son, Kal-El, into space, towards a planet Kal-El had researched and discovered to be of minimal danger and relatively isolated from the most civilizations._

_Can you guess which planet was that?_

_Yes. __Earth!_

_The invaders did arrive, as predicted, but they did not pick the small ship, its engines preparing to open the subspace tunnel and disappear toward the stars, safe from the slayers of its people._

_Jor-El hugged his wife, when a new transmission was sent throughout the planet, a signal that, without Brainiac's disruption, could be clearly translated in their language._

_The words Jor-El heard were mechanical, just as emotionless as Brainiac had been:_

_"****__Location – KRYPTON!_

_****__Inferior-Life-forms – DETECTED!_

_****__Proceed-with-mission-Objective – WE-OH-BEY!_

_****__EX-TER-MI-NA-TE!_"

_Little Kal-El's ship blasted off at the same time the whole planet erupted from a barrage of beams._

_The Last Son of Krypton, narrowly escaping death from the unstoppable quest, for universal cleansing, of the race known as **the Daleks**._

* * *

_This is me, experimenting with some notions of the DC Universe, inserting a little Doctor Who Mythos here and there, if you people like it, review it, please!_

_I might end up writing more about it, who knows?_

_Next Chapter: we will read the story of another planet, Oa._

_Oh, and there might be a very special guest too!_

* * *

_**EDIT: Oh yeah, I forgot to mention it, because people might get the wrong idea... so!**_

_**I do not own Doctor Who or Justice League. Just making sure you all got that!**_

_**And!**_

_**Please, if you're going to review a story, mine or anyone else's, I would appreciate it if you stayed on topic.**_

_**While I am always glad to get a review, I prefer it if it is relevant to the story.**_

_**This is a review section after all, not just any forum.**_

Songue


	2. The Original FAIL

**(Word of warning, it's an experiment, just take it as it goes… there IS a reason why, trust me.)**

* * *

"_You know why I'm here? It all started earlier this week, with a stupidly clever alien, in the beginning of time, in a self important little planet called Maltus._

_'My fellow Maltusians, this is our moment', said Krona before his brothers and sisters in the assembly._

_The Oans. These creatures were similar to the previously mentioned Kryptonians as much as the previously mentioned Kryptonians were to the also previously mentioned Earthlings called 'Humans'._

_That is to say, only on the surface of their grayish-blue skins._

_They were the first great civilization. The first great species. The first to be mentioned, the first ever to understand the way the Universe worked._

_(And that is also a big fat lie, told by these self-important egomaniacs to everyone else they meet)._

_They were scientists. Properly said, they were Experimenters. They researched through out space, exploring the potential in matter, energy and things beyond the mind capacity of the vast majority of the known galaxies._

_If there was any limits in their experiments, they were always approached with the usual strategy: _**_'what does it take to go beyond it?'_**

_Sad to say, they did manage to find a way to break most of said limits._

_As you can clearly see by this point, things were bound to go wrong eventually, and the involvement of Krona in the events to follow would take this assertion to 'universe-shattering-disaster' proportions._

_No kidding there._

_Krona was a scientist that made other Oan scientists seem immature and inexperienced. He was obsessed with the most powerful question of all, the question that plagued everyone throughtout the ages._

_'How had it all begun?'_

_The Oans had existed forever, since the beginning of time. But they clearly understood that something happened before that. That may seem paradoxical, but trust me when I say, it gets worse._

_'As you all know, the Time War has ended. There were no winning sides, for there are no Gallifreyans or Daleks left.'_

_(If you have been keeping record closely, good for you! You have already realized the first mistake of Krona!)_

_'However unfortunate the results may be, I must remind you all the great advantage we, the Oans, have acquired.'_

_The Maltusians were quiet, some nodding, some raising eyebrows, some even pretending to care about what they were listening. They all knew everything that happened and they pretty much had figured out what Krona was about to tell them, so most were internally wondering why Krona felt the need for all that exposition in the first place._

_'For so long, we have been powerless against the Time Lords' interventions! For too long, we have been confined and restricted by their rules and their point of views! At last, with no more Time Lords, the Oans can pursue the power of Gallifrey's time-bending technology!'_

_Krona expected applauses or at least the general ovation, but he got neither._

_While it was true that the Time Lords were in fact great obstacles in their researches, the unanimity – except for Krona – understood that messing with Time was not only too troublesome but highly-susceptible for creating disasters as well._

_Time Lords ruled Time._

_Oans were left to have their way with Space._

_Krona wasn't quite fond of such division, naturally. He understood that Time was just as adjustable for him, malleable to permit one such as himself access to the real great knowledge, the power that created the universe._

_The Oans had their own beliefs and superstitions – which any Oan will deny straight away. One such belief, an old legend, as old as themselves, concerning that the origin of Universe was to forever remain a secret, for its revelation would bring a great calamity._

_Most Oans would say that they did not believe such legend, but they would not dare prove it wrong._

_That is why his brothers and sisters were quite emphatically when they told him NOT to attempt the manipulation of Time for any purpose, especially the purpose he was the most advocate for._

_Feeling betrayed by his own kind, Krona proceeded to politely ignore their prohibition and constructed a machine that could pierce the temporal barrier, to unravel time itself._

_But his great interest had to be satisfied. Krona turned his view to the past, the earliest moments, and before even that._

_The Oan caught a glimpse of… something. Nobody knows for sure exactly what it was, though._

_Some say it was the hand of creation depositing the speck that would become the entire cosmos in a fragile nest made of nothingness._

_Others say it was an entire previous Universe, crushing down on itself, spawning the current one, like the mythical phoenix, a never-ending glorious cycle of birth-death-birth-death-birth..._

_Others say it was an exploding blue police box..._

_Whatever it was, the machine had stumbled upon something the Maltusian had not expected, more powerful than anything Krona could ever quantify._

_The Greatest Time Locks of All._

_The Time-Lords were gone, but they left a little nasty surprise behind, something to prevent any time-traveller to do exactly what Krona was attempting. How unfortunate that Krona was as stubborn as the Gallifreyan were, and tried to pierce into the barrier anyway._

_His machine could not keep up with the pride of its creator and, unable to tolerate the threshold of such an irresistible force, finally exploded._

_Unfortunately, the primordial energies that were released cracked the Creation, shattering what was the Universe into a Multiverse, fractions that replicated what originally was in infinite parallel universes that spawned each more and more universes, each as flawed as the previous one._

_It was the undiluted, untamed chaos, the Great Tragedy, the creation of the Anti-Matter Universe and the spreading of Evil into all cosmos._

_(If the Oans had any sense of humor, they should have labeled that as '__The First FAIL__')_

_Krona was punished and turned into pure energy – a form that would forever wander the Universe and never again be able to mess with it._

_(He got better, though, but that's another story...)_

_Not all were bad news, though._

_The Oans had at least the intellect to see this tragedy as a sign, the sign that the Universe had become too fragile to run on its own._

_Their powerful race accepted the responsibility of guarding it, protecting the peace and the order across the space for the rest of their days, as the self-entitled 'Guardians of the Universe'._

_Again, that is the official version goes, as they recorded it._

_There is, however, the real version, but it is too long and involves a yo-yo and a fifth dimension being._

_Trust me, **I was there**_."

* * *

Extract from Arkham Asylum archives:

"Patient's name: '**John Smith**' (most likely an alias). Second Session. Still unable to get positive response. The subject rejects giving any real details about himself, claiming to be an alien on a mission, opting instead to continuously narrate highly abstract stories with absurd details. Garrulous mania, probably. Has a disturbing fixation with super-heroes stories, even going as far as assuming that his real name is not John Smith, but an alter-ego for his real personality, **The Doctor**."

* * *

_**I do not own Doctor Who or Justice League. Just making sure you all got that!**_


	3. The Doctor and The Asylum

"You have one hour of socialization, then you'll meet the doctor.", the older nurse told him, her eyes fierce but a hint of kindness, even after all those wrinkles of worry in her dark face. "You will behave yourself and not cause any trouble. Are we **understood**?"

The patient nodded and the two heavy male nurses stepped aside. The staff was used to dealing with a lot of difficult and dangerous criminals in the Arkham Asylum, but at the leisure room, where the least dangerous cases hanged out, there was a little more freedom to the patients.

('_Heavily guarded by professional carrying tranquilizer guns_' kind of freedom).

'_John Smith_', as Aparecida Santos, the female head nurse, read on his file, was a rather peculiar man. Very skinny, very active, very odd. He spoke fast in that British/Scottish unidentifiable accent of his. And he spoke a lot. All the time, as some of the late night shift securities told her, as they caught him debating with himself at late hours about what kind of things he should rather be doing, despite being locked down.

Insisted on being called The Doctor. '_Textbook transference case_', said a young doctor.

Another peculiar thing about him, she found out in his first couple of days at the institute, was that the patient was both incredibly stupid and amazingly smart. He knew much about mathematic, science, anatomy, pharmacology, eletronics and engineering, but at the same time, kept asking weird things around, like the actual date, if New York existed in this world, who was the president of the country, the Prime Minister of the UK at the moment, if anyone had ever heard about _Daleks_ or _Zygons_.

He told her he was just making a survey on all the differences and similarities between this reality and his original one.

Apart from the lack of sleep and the fantasies, Aparecida could see that the man was in also very good health, despite his medical chart listing almost forty types of distinct allergies, including a severe case of acetylsalicylic acid allergy.

It was also listed that he did not like cats. '_Or pears. **Especially pears**_', was written - in bold letters, no less.

Apart from that, all the records seemed fine. Mr. Smith would be staying in the Asylum for some time until his transference could be completed to another health care. It was noted that the man was in no way dangerous, just highly delusional.

Aparecida followed the distribution of medicines throughout the lounge. Most of the patients were easy to understand, and the "bat-cases" kept themselves out of the crowds, but were never left without proper observation.

Professor Crane, for example, had just gotten access to the more social areas, a reward for good behavior. He was looking very happy that day, so she made a mental note to warn the guards to raise the alert over him.

"Miss Isley, your medicine", Shirley, the younger blonde nurse, offered to the red haired patient on the couch, watching television. Aparecida had some initial troubles with this particular patient, but found out she would accept her medicines much more kindly if they were given by female nurses.

And then, 'The Doctor'. He had been watching the nurses working, watching her make her walk and inspecting the other patients. Like he was in charge, inspecting everybody else.

The doctors always told the staff to never address the patients by their aliases or nicknames. That would be reinforcing their deviant personalities, so the solution would be treating them by their real names, as normal individuals.

"John, here's your remedy", said Scott Wollup, one of the veteran nurses. He was one of the oldest still in the work, and he was a survivor. The patients liked him, he respected them, they did not hurt him when they escaped or staged riots. John Smith was particularly fond of him.

"Oh, great, Scott!", said John Smith, cheerfully with a wink, and throwing the pills into his mouth.

All in all, a calm day, ruined when the television suddenly changed transmission.

"… a special bulletin, this just came in, the Justice League has been seen fighting over the skies of Metropolis against a group of super-powered criminals..."

Aparecida got really worried, as most of the older staff did, with reason.

She knew that, every time there was news about super-heroes activities, especially the Justice League, the patients got agitated.

It was like some sort of bad sign, a red alert, calling out for the worst of each of the patients. Were people like the Batman the reason why Crane, a very intelligent psychology teacher, would suddenly wear a suit with straw, call himself the Scarecrow and start terrorizing the Asylum or some preschool in Gotham? Of course, Batman was not the cause, but maybe he was the reinforcement the doctors kept talking about?

Aparecida did not know what to think of that anymore.

There were some details on the League's spaceship disappearing after getting hit. Some patients were making bets, trying to guess if one of the heroes had been killed off piloting it and which one had been.

The "bat-cases" did not participate on those kinds of games.

Aparecida wondered if they would bet against the Batman or would they actually root for his survival.

"It was Wonder Woman", said a voice with British accent over the corner of the couch.

John Smith was the only other patient who would share a couch with Pamela Isley, as all the other male patients, even the dangerous ones, knew she was the girl never to be messed with.

(Except the Joker, but that one was crazy beyond recovery...)

And, in a matter of just a few days, he had gotten that close to her - well, as close as she would allow, anyway.

Isley, however, did not pay him much notice.

She told Aparecida once, when asked about it, that '_The Doctor doesn't make you feel wrong, like other men do, with their looks and pervert thoughts, right on their faces. He just likes to enjoy the company, especially if it's a ginger_'.

'_Why ginger?_', asked Aparecida, then.

She just shrugged off. '_He said he was envious of my hair, that he had never had the chance to be a ginger, whatever that mean_s.'

* * *

"You think so, Doctor?", asked Pamela, a look of interest, a lethal and playful tease in her voice. "Because it must be a woman piloting the ship?"

Wiser men would have stepped away from her at the hint of her words.

Smith just laughed it off, his eyes straight at hers, though.

"Nah, those are just old news for me."

And said nothing more, as it was the time for his next session.

* * *

Hours later, Aparecida was getting ready to leave when Shirley commented: "Just found out, the Doctor was right."

"The Doctor? Doctor who?", asked Aparecida, not understanding what the nurse was talking about.

"You know, the John Smith fellow."

"You are not supposed to be calling him by that", Aparecida warned her.

"Well, ok! But Smith was right. It was Wonder Woman on the ship. She is fine, though! Apparently, it was a ruse to defeat the bad guys."

Aparecida listened and thought about it.

John Smith, right once again on things normal people did not have a clue, but always confused on the things anyone else should know about.

She decided to take a closer look on the docile John Smith on the following day.

* * *

_**I do not own Doctor Who or Justice League. Just making sure you all got that!**_


	4. The beginning?

_**I do not own Doctor Who or Justice League. Just making sure you all got that!**_

**(Word of warning, it's an experiment, just take it as it goes… there IS a reason why, trust me.)**

* * *

_Oh, hello, again! So, what do you want me to talk about this time?_

_My… childhood? Oh, that's so silly! Anyone can talk about their own childhoods!_

_Well, except some rapid-aging clones. That will bother them, trust me, met quite a few of them in my days…_

_Anyways, why would we be stuck in such a boring topic?! Childhoods, bah!_

_How about if I tell you about the Universe's childhood?! Not many can do that, I guarantee!_

_Oh, that's a brilliant story, let me tell you!_

_It all happened earlier, this week._

_Well, not this Universe, me. This Universe started existing billions of years ago._

_I just happened to be around at the time..._

* * *

Earlier this week.

Another place.

The Doctor ran as fast as he could, pulling levers and pressing buttons, hammering down loose plates and tearing apart others, as the TARDIS' control room shook gradually more and more.

He recognized the signs, of course. He hated when things like this happened. That last time, with Rose and Donna, was not that much of a mess, the reality walls were weaker then… but this time, this was something unique.

The TARDIS was crossing Universes once more. But, unlike last time, it was still at full power. Wherever they were going, he would not have to worry about lack of power there, at least this time.

The Doctor was having a lot of other problems, though.

Even if the ship wasn't dying like that horrible first time getting to Pete's World, the TARDIS was getting banged up all around.

The Doctor felt a sharp pain in his hearts as he pressed a series of buttons and pulled a toilet chain that suddenly swung from above. A series of loud sharp noises told him that the TARDIS had successfully ejected thirteen percent of itself to escape the temporal pull it was suffering.

It was a safety measure, the TARDIS could bleed itself a little, in order to prevent its own destruction. Good old Tegan compared that one time to a coyote chewing off its own leg to escape from a trap.

('_Thinking about it, good old Tegan was sure violent, huh... well, anyway, there goes the tennis court and the jelly babies deposits, numbers 2 through 5... Pity._')

Even sad, the Doctor smiled from the memory, satisfied by the sound of the chronometrical stabilizers kicking in, and not a second too late, as the dimensional shift was taking them, the Time Lord and his blue box, to the very beginning of it.

The Big Bang from an alternative Universe.

Yes, lack of power, not the problem.

Being pulverizes into all corners of Creation, though… that was something to worry about.

Mentally cursing for taking so long to remember the solution, the Doctor started pulling a series of metal grates from under the console, finding a set of old heavy looking chains, labeled "Manual Brakes".

He grinned, speaking out-loud: "I always wanted to try this!", as he pulled them with all his strength.

"_**Allons-y!**_"

* * *

Moments later.

Not the same place.

The door swung open, the pinstriped suit man jumping out, following a cloud of dark smoke just behind him.

"Looks like the Old Lady still got it, eh?!", he asked around. "Don't mind the smoke, everyone, it's just the manual brakes, they kind of **melted**…"

The group of blue humanoid aliens, who were having their most important meeting in their people's history, stared at him with looks of puzzlement and horror.

Feeling the awkwardness around him rising, the Doctor straightened up, fixing his tie and hair.

"Sorry I intruded your little party, fellows! Not much of a choice, really, the TARDIS latched itself to the first stable moment it could find in this Universe, whatever it is. And boy, things are turbulent out there, who's been playing around with the time and space continuum?!"

The Doctor noticed he was at some white marble hall, a great panoramic window above them showed the sight of a very young Universe expanding just outside.

The Doctor gave a soft whistle, pondering: '_They do have some nice architecture around, I'll give them that._'

The creatures, all dressed in white robes with a geometrical collection of symbols, very similar to an open hand, stared at him, silently.

Then they stared one another, without any sound.

And they stared back at him, in silence.

The Doctor snapped his fingers. "Oh, telepathic race, right? I can see it, big cranium structure and all, nice brains you must have inside these expanded thinking-boxes of yours. Also, loved the tone of skin! Blue has always been my favorite primary color, you lot must have deduced it by my means of transportation. Though, you would look much cuter if you all were not so tall. Also, the mouths. You have them, I wonder if you know how to speak or if you all are just ignoring me, rather rude this is."

The creatures kept staring at him, some even more shocked, others really much more annoyed.

"Yes, I tend to have quite a gob, no, I cannot hear your thoughts, it's evident by the looks on your faces. The Doctor. That's who I am, hello! That's the TARDIS, my ship. Now, your turn for presentations, and who is him?"

The Doctor suddenly asked, pointing backwards with his thumb, in the direction of an individual of the same species, only this one sported a goatee. He had his wrists bound by some sort of mineral handcuff.

The Time Lord had a whole bunch of hunches ('_heh!_', he laughed to himself) about the man, and he was certain that the man was dangerous. It wasn't the restraints or the facial hair (too many past bad experiences with the Master, he admitted).

It was the eyes.

"Looks like I got in the middle of something, haven't I?", he asked, before the slight pain hitting his frontal lobe.

'_We are the Maltusians._'

"Oi! You don't have to scream! Or _think_ so loud…"

'_We are Oans_', another thought came, different voice, same way. '_Who are you?_'

"The. Doctor. Two words", the alien complained. "Thought I already established that."

'_That's not your real name._'

'_You INVADED our court._'

'_You hide your identity._'

'_Should we trust him?_'

'_He hides it too well._'

'_State your intentions._'

'_You hide your identity._'

'_You hide your name._'

Though talented and experienced, the Doctor could not handle so many thoughts at once, many powerful minds trying to probe his mental shields.

He almost fell on his knees, but kept standing.

'_It's futile._'

'_What is your purpose here?_'

'_He hides it._'

'_The name._'

'_Darkness in his thoughts._'

'_Strong mind._'

'_Weak._'

Sweat started forming on his temples. The Doctor was reaching his limit, each thought a lightning striking against his barriers.

Just a bit more strain and they could tear him apart.

'_He is not like us, and yet, so alike._'

'_What are your intentions?_'

'_The name!_'

'_The Court of Maltus…_'

'_Brilliant mind._'

'_NAME!_'

"Time Lord."

The squeaky voice came from none of the blue aliens, not the Court, not the prisoner, not even from the Doctor.

It came from a tiny man on the other side of the room, someone who definitely was not there a second before. He was short, the Doctor's knee high. He wore a black bowl hat, a purple waist coat, formal attire with shining black shoes and a lavender umbrella.

And if the previous shock they had with the appearance of the Doctor was a good indication, this time they got REALLY surprised.

* * *

_This chapter and my thanks go to KatHarkness-Katara, a good review makes wonders to the writer's soul, trust me._


	5. Bob and Me

_**I do not own Doctor Who or Justice League. Just making sure you all got that!**_

**(Word of warning, it's an experiment, just take it as it goes… there IS a reason why, trust me.)**

* * *

_So, where was I? Oh, yes, beginning of the Universe, yes._

_I happened to get there absolutely by accident, I do try to stay away from the mess it was in the beginning, you would never imagine that if you checked with my past… friends… companions, let's call them, right?_

_Back to the story – sorry, I tend to blabber much, hope you have noticed it._

_(I can see you did, you're just writing away your notes, bless you, poor thing...)_

_But just keep quiet and write it down, if you must._

_Where was I, again?_

_Oh, yes._

_The beginning of the Universe and the Oans._

_And the little fellow._

* * *

Earlier this week.

Beginning of the Universe.

"Oh, stop trying that, you bunch of fools!", the tiny man teased, nudging his bowler hat and fixing his waist coat. "You're not getting inside this head anytime soon, give it up. Better speak with your mouths, since you have them in the first place. Waste of time, really."

"My opinion, _exactly_!", the Doctor agreed, deciding to jump in. "Hello, alien blue men group! That's a first - well! Actually, not the first time, technically, I have met an alien blue men group before, met them on Earth, clever disguise. Come to think of it, they were not all that pleasant with me, called me blasphemous - that's understandable though, I never noticed that rainbow colored suit had all colors BUT blue! Loved the TARDIS though. As I said, I'm the Doctor, and this is…"

"Not important", the tiny man said.

"_Pish-posh_!", the Doctor complained. "Everyone is important."

And the Time Lord gave a quick look at the blue beings surrounding him, as to see if they understood the message.

"I don't have a name that could be pronounced, anyway, even by you or the 'Blue Meanies' up there. Or translatable by your ship, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, you're good, that you are", the Doctor complimented him for his tease. The little man knew some things about him, but the Doctor would not show surprise. "Smurfs-groupies, this... is Bob, my new best friend in this Universe. Say 'hi!', Bob!"

"Bob? Really.", the pink skinned man asked.

"Oh, Bob! You were supposed to say 'Hi, Bob!', in return!"

"**SILENCE**!"

One of the blue aliens stepped forward, shouting the command with all the authority he could muster.

Needless to say, '_Bob_' and the Doctor were NOT impressed.

"Knew that they could talk", the Doctor whispered.

"You are invaders at the Court of Maltus", another one spoke, this one a little more feminine than the first.

'_Well, as feminine as you can get, very subtle physical differences_', the Doctor observed. '_Probably a race starting to have separate genders, or maybe in the process of losing them, fascinating!_'

A third took his turn. "Who are you?"

Another female. "Where do you come from?"

"How did you get here?", the Doctor had no idea what was the gender of this one.

"What are your intentions?", asked another, not as bald as the others, white hair around his head similar as a crown. Did not sound as petulant as the others, the Doctor noted.

The Doctor smiled, he loved a good interrogation, especially when there were no weapons pointed at him.

Sadly, almost all the time, guns **were** involved.

"I'm the Doctor!", he announced. "I am not from around. Came by TARDIS. These things, I am positively sure I already went through them! Three or four times already, I know I like to talk, but this is exhausting!", he ruffled his spiky hair, already stressed by having to repeat himself so many times. "And, about my intentions… I really don't know right now, it's still early, don't you think? Haven't got the chance of being offered tea and/or being expelled from the planet yet."

The little man stared back at the blue tall aliens.

"Well? You shy, by any chance?", asked the Doctor, now curious.

"Don't expect anything from me, I'm not from this dimension in the first place."

"Oh, Bob, we have so much in common! Lovely!"

The first blue alien spoke again. "What does it mean, '_**Time Lord**_'?"

"Oh, that's my…", the Doctor started saying, but the tiny man nudged at his side with the umbrella. "... what is it, Bob?"

"Watch this..."

There was something strange in the air, suddenly.

The air rippled, but only faintly.

The aliens were staring at the Doctor once more, apparently unfazed by what had just happened.

The same alien now looked at him with worried eyes.

"So… a Time Lord from Gallifrey? A survivor from the Time War?", he spoke, each word carefully spoken.

Needless to say, the Doctor's mouth fell open.


	6. Of yo-yos and inspirations

_**I do not own Doctor Who or Justice League. Just making sure you all got that!**_

**(Word of warning, it's an experiment, just take it as it goes… there IS a reason why, trust me.)**

* * *

_The beginning of the Universe._

_(__Yes, I do keep saying that, sorry.)_

_It's just…_

_First, I **was** supposed to explain you something about it..._

_It's a mess._

_Utter chaos in a sort of orderly fashion._

_Ever heard about the butterfly-thing, you know, 'flap of wings, hurricane on the other side of the planet'? Silly notion, complete underestimation of the real causality of temporal-spatial interference in key fluctuation points in History, but sure, let's go with it!_

_(If I sound condescending, never you mind, it's part of the charm, really, you'll get used to it!)_

_These 'butterflies' are events that either happened or didn't, and Time and Space is what you get precisely because of them._

_And they are Fixed._

_(Remember this word, it's kind of important.)  
_

_That's why I keep as far as I can from them. Even I know, you do not toy around this kind of force._

_So, back to the point. In the early days - emphasis on EARLY - there are a lot of these 'butterflies' hanging around._

_More than the number of stars there are in the Universe._

_And the stars that had been._

_And the ones that will still occur._

_These 'butterflies' are supposed to never be disturbed._

_EVER._

_And, usually, that's pretty much what happens. It'd be stupid and reckless to not do so._

_And someone managed to jam it up around here._

_(Yes, I'm talking about that __**Krona**__ fellow, you __**were**__ paying attention! Good for you! Gold star and that sort of thing for you!)_

_Now, listen carefully._

_Things will get interesting now…_

* * *

Still at earlier this week.

Still at the beginning of the Universe.

The Doctor pointed at the alien, impressed.

"Oh! You know Time Lords!"

He pointed at the rest.

"They **know** Time Lords!"

The Doctor got closer to the handcuffed alien, putting on his black-rimmed glasses.

"You know them, too? Don't you? Time Lords? Of Gallifrey? Yes, you do, of course, you do!", he said, as the Goatee man nodded.

The Doctor spun on his converse shoes, hands on his coat pockets. His maniac grin was following a worried look in his eyes, his steps making him circle around the prisoner, like a skinny wolf.

He put his hands on his pocket, withdrawing a small round object, which he spun with the help of a yarn.

"The problem is, none of you did, half a minute ago!", he said, checking his red and blue yo-yo. "And the strange reality-wobble just now, you lot clearly did **not** notice it. You have NO idea what I'm talking about, right? I can sense it, it's all wrong, all kinds of strange galloping around us as I speak… This timeline just got some sort of shakedown, the air is less citrusy… - sudden realization washed over his face. - Oh! Oh! Ooooh, that – is – BRILLIANT!", he said, pointing at the little man, who nodded. "You and me...!"

"What are you talking about, Time Lord?", asked the First Oan to speak to him.

The Doctor turned to speak, but he got cut.

"Time's up, Doctor", said the small man, checking a fob watch. "We're on a schedule here and, now, we both leave in your ship."

The Doctor rose an eyebrow but ignored the device. "We do?"

"If you want answers, that is."

The Doctor nodded, his curiosity winning this time.

The Doctor turned around and bowed. "I'm deeply sorry, Oan High Court of Maltus, but I'm not supposed to be here, you ARE, though, not like this anyway,", he pointed at the Goatee prisoner, "Don't know why, but I think _you_ most certainly _deserves_ being here… and now I sort of am, though I shouldn't in this Universe, you see? Oh… that'd be funny, if not for the whole load of bad it actually is."

The Time Lord walked towards his TARDIS, the little man by his side.

"Wait! Explain yourselves! Tell us what is happening!", demanded the first blue man. "Time Lord, explain yourself! Something! **Anything**!"

The Doctor smiled in return, holding the door open.

"I'm the Doctor, and **this** is where things get complicated."

The door closed behind the two men, and the box slowly faded away, leaving all Oans in complete perplexity.

The leader turned around and asked his fellow Oans:

"**The** Doctor? **Doctor who**?"

* * *

Same place.

Some time later.

The Oan with the white hair crown rubbed his chin in deep thought. The Court had been over, Krona had been sentenced to an existence as an energy being, unable to ascend, unable to interfere with the physical reality.

"A Doctor… and a Police Box", he spoke softly.

"What is that you are thinking, Friend?", spoke one of the most noticeably female of the Oans, not used to the act of speaking anymore.

"Me? A great deal of things, Friend. About the intruders, about their strange talk… and about the blue vessel."

"That was strange indeed. I could sense so many dimensions, hidden inside of it. So much greatness in its interior. A powerful mind obstructed me from further inspections, however. Very disturbing, I might add", and she - for a lack of better word - was aware that very few things could actually disturb a Oan.

And strangely, for the Oans, this had been the one of the most disturbing days of their existence.

"Yes, me too, but I was mostly wondering about the sign on the door", the male reminded.

"Really?"

"Yes. Yes, I was caught by some ideas. The sign spoke of 'Police' and 'Public Use'. The color of its paint, blue. Blue of Hope. That's one powerful notion, see?"

"I'm sorry, you will have to explain it better", she spoke, then thought back to him: '_Or share it mentally, preferably._'

She was aware of how much certain ideas could be seen as threat by her brethren, Krona's action having affected them all too deeply.

"It's about a force for the protection of the general population, a force of good that serves everyone, repelling all _Evil_ in its reaches and _sight_."

"I… understand. It's really a powerful notion, indeed."

"A Bright Light, that guides the Good and unravels the Evil", he continued. "Imagine this ultimate force of Law, encompassing the ultimate reaches, the entire Universe."

"A dignified task, but a supreme burden as well. The greatest responsibility of policing and protecting a Universe where the Time Lords of Gallifrey are no more... who could be tasked with such a noble yet impossibly difficult task?"

"Maybe those who both have the power and the duty to atone for their sin. The sin of not stopping one of themselves from creating the Antimatter Universe, of splitting reality in so many dimensions…"

She nodded, in silence, then spoke: "We _should_ reunite the others once more. There is much we still have to do for the Universe."

The male Oan nodded.

"For the Universe."

* * *

_First of all, thank you for the support and reviews!_

_Second. For those who are keeping track of the story, now it's a good time to return and check things written on early chapters._

_As I have said, there's a reason for the confusing plot, so I am paying attention to make every bit matter, ok?_

___More stuff is coming, don't worry, folks._


	7. INTERLUDE I - The Calm before the Storm

_**I do not own Doctor Who or Justice League. Just making sure you all got that!**_

**(Word of warning, it's an experiment, just take it as it goes… there IS a reason why, trust me.)**

* * *

Next day, Arkham Asylum had, once more, spent another night in complete peace.

Aparecida did not like it.

She had enough experience to know that, when the patients, even the high security ward ones, were all behaving calmly, that was a bad sign.

She checked the reports from the security, the list of present staff members and made her own report to Mr. Casey, going to deliver it herself.

* * *

Mr. Aaron Siafi Casey was one of the newest additions to the staff, an advisor appointed by the newest Mayor. He was a man of severe expression and tanned skin, in charge of overlooking and implementing new security measures to control the Asylum, while improving the performance of the staff as a whole.

His office was just down the hallway, not that far from Aparecida's.

"Good morning, Head Nurse", he greeted her as usual, in his grumpy voice.

Aparecida never liked being called by titles, however, she had stifled a laugh this time as she noticed, once more, that Mr. Casey had milk foam in his bushy mustache.

The man was very strict – and odd – in his choice of beverages, either hot milk, tea or plain water.

"I actually needed to talk to you, 'Cida'", he said, tapping a pen in his desk.

"Oh, really?", she asked, trying not to stare too much.

"Yes. Have you seen Nurse Dale recently?"

Aparecida took a moment to think about it. Christian Dale was one of the newest additions from Gotham University Hospital. Great kid, smart but had been having trouble with directions inside the Asylum.

"Last I saw him, he was leaving home, yesterday", she recalled. "Went to the showers, first, I think."

Casey made a throat noise. "Yes, well, he did not make his security check before leaving. This is his second time this month."

Ever since Mr. Casey got his job, he had been making some new security checks and investigations about the staff background.

He said he wanted to root out any suspicious characters and disloyal employees.

'_Arkham needs to be rid of its fame of incompetence_', he told her once. '_Its people need to be professional, vigilant, trustworthy_.'

And, despite the many inconveniences, it eventually did pay off.

There had been way less bribes or criminals trying to infiltrate the staff in the last few weeks. Sure, there still were some riots and casualties, but they were kept to a minimum, and, in most cases, they happened because someone got either too careless or something entirely unpredictable occurred.

Some say there was even an attempt against his life once, but it was never confirmed or properly denied by the man himself.

"I'll talk to the kid, Casey", she said, in a soothing voice. "You know he's just a rookie."

"That's no excuse", he warned her. "You know he's competent, and Callahan needs more experienced folk in the night shift."

Sarah Callahan, the night shift Head Nurse. She had been in charge for longer than Aparecida, and, despite her age bordering the sixties, she was one of the toughest 'cookies' in Arkham jar, Cida had to admit.

She pulled a chair and took the seat. "These new kids need time, Casey, you know that", she told him. "Chris, Shirley, even Tori, who's been here for almost a year now, it's already hard to get any intern to work here, unless they're really good or really desperate. And nobody can prepare them for…"

Aaron Casey looked at Aparecida, his penetrating gaze under the grayish eyebrows. His message was quite clear:

'_I know what you're saying, I like it the least, but you will have to do it anyway_'.

"All right, I'll push Chris a little harder" , she conceded, "but at least give him another month of training".

Deep down, Aparecida did not want to put the young nurse at the night shift, for both the lack of staff she was already facing and for the kid's sake.

But she also knew that, no matter how bad her job could get, it still wasn't as bad as Callahan's.

The Night shift was wisely called '_Death Zone Shift_' by the older staff, and for a reason. It was the time most inmates got loud and violent.

Things got much more dangerous at the night times in the Asylum and people eventually got hurt.

Good people, competent people.

And Callahan herself was a living proof of it.

"That still doesn't solve the night shift problem on the short term", he reminded her.

"I'll see what I can do, maybe I can convince 'Buck' to work for a couple weeks with Callahan."

"'Buck' Braines?", he asked, raising an eyebrown and taking a more comfortable seating position. "Don't like him."

"Oh, I know he's keeping an eye on my spot for some time now…"

"That's not what I mean", Casey cut her comment. "William Braines is a little too rough, in my opinion."

"Oh. Yes, I heard the stories, we all did, but you can't say that, for sure", she pointed it out.

"You know the man does not have a temper, but he does look inclined to apply force, sometimes too much force, in many cases."

Aparecida recalled the event about 'Jackal' Jack, three months prior, the serial rapist who tried to escape after slashing an orderly's arm with a make-shift scapel. Buck Braines was the one who tackled the criminal patient down, '_accidentally_' pinning him down by the neck, almost crushing Jack' trachea in the process.

Nobody could prove it had been an intentional act of harming the criminal, and Buck was known for his experience and quick-thinking, but Mr. Casey, nonetheless, had been keeping the nurse under close investigation. He had found many other similar cases were, though strength was required to stop a hostile patient, a little too much of violence was executed, from Braines' part.

"He wouldn't be my first choice to keep next at thrashing patients, for his sake and for theirs, as well."

"That's the best I have to offer", Aparecida said, defiantly.

They had a little staring contest, until Casey looked up and gave a small grin.

"Damn, woman. Okay, fine, I will give the kid a little more warming up time", he took the no longer steaming cup of milk next to his telephone. "I've been wanting to have a talk with Warden Kane about the need to hire more people to the Asylum, Sarah's been complaining even more than you."

Mr. Casey took a sip, so Aparecida decided to bother him a little further.

"Sarah, eh? She's still playing hard to get, isn't she?"

Casey gave her a smile in return, a milky smile, in fact. "That stubborn girl, keeps saying she's too old for dating, can you believe it?"

"Oh, now, let me tell you when I first started, she was quite fond of parties, in fact…"

And they both stayed there for a couple more minutes, talking about love and life, a brief moment of peace in one of the most dangerous places in Gotham City, none the wiser of the dark times that were soon to come...

* * *

_**Oh, I can hear you folks, brandishing your pitch-forks and your lit torches, calling me a monster for the lack of update and the absence of the Doctor.**_

_**Well, yeah, I'm sorry.**_

_**This interlude is just a way to put things on hold, for the next part is getting written and I don't want to get confused.**_

_**Soon, the Doctor will return.**_

_**And things will be explained.**_

_**(Somewhat...)**_


	8. Playing games with John Smith

_**I do not own Doctor Who or Justice League. Just making sure you all got that!**_

**(Word of warning, it's an experiment, just take it as it goes… there IS a reason why, trust me.)**

* * *

"John, could I have a word with you?"

During the morning shift, Nurse Aparecida approached the strange patient, who was now engrossed in a checkers game with another inmate, one of the (in)famous ones.

"Why, hello, Nurse! I most certainly can. Sorry, Jervis, I have to go with the Head Nurse", he excused to the small, balding man, who nodded in return, still focused in the pieces of the game.

Aparecida observed the scene quietly, only speaking when they arrived at the corridor to the lower security residents of the Asylum.

"It seems you have become quite friendly with most of our patients in the institute, Mr. Smith."

"Oh, you know, not all of them are **that** bad…", he started saying, but quickly notice she was giving him **the look**. "All right, the ones that get sent here because of…", John Smith motioned both hands on his head, pointing fingers upward, in a imitation of a certain infamous '_black pointy ears_', "… are pretty much as dangerous as you can think, but they are not all confrontational. In fact, just respecting their boundaries and not showing fear does the trick. As you instructed your staff to do, so I've been seeing."

Her expression a mask, Aparecida took the comment into account of what she had seen John Smith doing.

The man was clearly delusional, as anyone could learn by talking with him for just five minutes, but Smith was most certainly not stupid.

Aparecida had warned the guards of both shifts to keep themselves smart around this patient, treating him like they would in regards to any one of the Bat-crowd.

In retrospect, she should have just increased his surveillance level a notch altogether.

"Like your friend, Jervis Tetch. Ever heard about his stories?", she carefully asked.

"Oh, yes, I have. The other patients, they talk about a lot of things. Most about the criminally insane portion of our population", John said in a lowering tone. "Most, about those that got sent here because of Gotham's '_Boogey Man_'."

Aparecida was not enjoying the way John kept leading their talk. "Mr. Smith, allow me to be _honest_ with you", she said objectively.

He smiled in return. "Only if you allow me to be childish, can't help myself these last years, comes with the package I suppose!"

"John", she said, in a more serious tone. Not reprimanding him, as the patient noticed, just asking him for attention, like a mother would. "What are you doing here?"

"Haven't you heard?", he asked smiling and fixing his spiky hair to all directions. "I'm crazy! Surely you have noticed that, by now."

'_To hell with the politically correct_', she thought. "Mr. Smith, there is '_crazy_', and there is dealing with the wrong kind of crowd, here in Arkham. In my years of experience, I've only found two kind of people who tends to get closer to our… '_special cases_': those with suicidal tendencies… and those who are just like them."

They had both stopped walking at this point.

John Smith stared at the Nurse. He knew how smart she was just by looking from afar, but, now, he could see how dangerously quick she was to get the personalities of those around her.

Aparecida was assessing him, checking his mood, his response to her behaviors.

She was so much like him, he realized, that he could not prevent a smile.

"And now you are asking yourself if **_I_** am really that dangerous. Am I scaring you, Head Nurse?", he said, in a soothing tone.

"Do you think I should be afraid, John?", she asked back.

"Of course not, you are not afraid of me", he commented, moving further from her and opening his arms. "You're just respecting my boundaries."

They both fell quiet.

Aparecida decided to go for the open approach.

"You look like an honest man to me, John Smith", she confessed. "But you worry me. The patients, even the worst ones, don't seem to care all that much about you, probably finding you nice and meek. Most of the medical staff do, as well. But that's what you want. You act odd like every patient, but it's the little things that you say, the way you observe the others, the tiniest details you leave shown, these are the things that make me insecure around you."

She quickly stabbed a finger at his chest. "And I don't like feeling insecure. Especially here. People depend on me, to make this a safe place to work at and to get treatment. Should I warn the security about you, John? You know Mr. Casey, he is not as lenient as I am. Are you going to be a trouble for us?"

John tilted his head, listening to the nurse quite intently, not afraid in the slightest from the shorter nurse.

He took a few moments to ponder what she had said, and he had to admit, she was quite a threat herself.

Or possibly a good candidate for...

"Mrs. Santos, you brilliant nurse", he said with a smile. "I am not looking for troubles, let me assure you. In fact, they usually find me, so I've been extra-careful of not letting them either. And for the '_why_' I'm here… because this is the place I have to **be** at this particular moment. I most definitely **have** to be here."

He took a step back in the direction in which they came.

"And I most definitely have to go back to my game with Jervis, I promised the fellow a 'best-out-of-thirty-one', and the little weasel tries to cheat all the time!", he said overjoyed, already walking away.

"You did not give me a straight answer, John", Aparecida said firmly.

This made the patient stop and look back.

"You are right, Mrs. Santos. I tend to do that, you'll find I'm especially keen on this bad habit of mine... So, I can tell you this: John Smith… is _not_ going to be a problem here", then he rubbed a finger in his nose. "You do have a lot of problems around you, as it is. You are probably aware of them, aren't you? Word of warning, Aparecida: you have to trust your feelings, now, more than ever."

And John Smith was gone, leaving the nurse with many more questions.

* * *

**_Sorry about the short chapter. Getting ideas on the 'digital paper' being a pain in the ass...  
_**

**_To be continued..._**


	9. The Doctor under care

_**I do not own Doctor Who or Justice League. Just making sure you all got that!**_

**(Word of warning, it's an experiment, just take it as it goes… there IS a reason why, trust me.)**

* * *

Arkham Asylum

Same week

Three days later

Aaron Casey's office door was opened by a much worried Aparecida dos Santos.

"I take it you just got the news", he said, with no surprise in his voice.

"You could say that!", she replied angrily, not in the mood for games.

Casey had already separated the files and presented them to the nurse, who took them in haste.

"The patient was found outside his room, in the middle of the night", he gave him a quick resume of the facts. "Apparently, Smith was trying to escape, and was doing a very nice job of it - until a security officer, Bridgeford, found him. Bridgeford tried to detain the fellow, but the patient was quick to escape towards where he had come from… until he was spotted by one of the night-shift nurses."

"Oh, no", she slowly said, after finding the testimonial sheet.

"Yes. Will Braines found Smith and, according to '_Buck_' himself, the patient suddenly became violent and attacked him with what appeared to be a knife. Braines claims he had no option but to defend himself... with a fire extinguisher."

The Head Nurse subtly winced.

"Doctor Taylor took care of his wounds, doesn't look like he had anything broke or too...", Casey took a glimpse of Cida's face. "Anyway, he did get bruised. Just to be sure, Doctor Jyung will make a final examination and, then, depending on his condition, is either solitary or the treatment ward for Smith."

The Head Nurse quietly gave him the '_I told you this was a really bad idea_' look, one Mr. Casey had been expecting all morning, of course.

Though, now that she had heard it from Aaron, something sounded wrong, Aparecida was sure of it.

"Smith had a knife?", Aparecida asked perplexed. From all the patients to pull out a weapon...

"Oh, **that**. In fact, it was this", Casey said, as he put a small metal tube-shaped object on top of his desk. "Looks like it's some sort of flashlight, makes an annoying noise too, like some sort of child toy. I am not taking any chances, though, already called the PD, they'll send some tech-expert to take this and check it in their labs, to see if it's a weapon or something, just to be safe."

Aparecida nodded, in agreement. There were many criminal geniuses currently being treated at the Asylum, and anything could be turned into a weapon on their hands.

* * *

_She remembered last Christmas party, where, despite protests from the staff, Casey had every present exchanged between workers first being checked by the police._

_It had paid off, as, somehow, a tie that Sarah Callahan was going to give to Scott Wollup was rigged with transparent cutting wire._

_All suspicions fell to Joker, who had previously called the old nurse a 'pain in the neck'._

_'Funny thing is', the Joker finally admitted at the time, 'I honestly do like the Old Coot, I just could not resist it!'_

* * *

"I'll go check Smith at the infirmary and… wait", she spoke, in confusion. "Bridgeford said he spotted Smith... at the South Wing's Intensive Care Unit? That's quite far from his room, don't you think?"

"I thought so, too", Mr. Casey agreed. "He made his way through a lot of security measures undetected, just to end up there."

Aaron noted, mentally counting, forty-two cameras Smith had successfully evaded till getting spotted. "You're going to visit him now?", he asked her.

Aparecida was going to reply, but then stopped.

'_Something is going on here, but I just can't see it right_', she was thinking to herself, until she remembered another piece of information.

"No, not right now", she finally replied. "Maybe later, but I have a lot to do."

Aaron Casey rose an eyebrow. He knew the Head Nurse's schedule was not full that day.

As she left his office, the Security Advisor could only bet what would be the Head Nurse's course of action.

* * *

North Wing

Infirmary Unit #2

Same time.

"So, does it still hurt, Mr. Smith?", asked Nina Jyung, the early morning medical doctor.

"Hm?", asked John Smith, her first patient of the day. "Oh, this? It was practically nothing!"

Nina half-listened to him, still checking his pupils.

"You suffered a major concussion last night, Mr. Smith."

"And I'm telling you, it was nothing at all, that bloke - Braines, was it? - he was just doing his job. He just overdid it a little, I reckon", he added, opening his mouth a little in both directions.

"And you're lucky you ended up with a bleeding lip, instead of a cracked jaw, Mr. Smith", she scolded him, pressing her fingertips on his cheekbones for yet another exam. "You are probably gonna get punished for that, you know, Smith?"

Nina checked his lips, while the patient, who could not sit still like any reasonable adult, looked at her office's window.

"Mr. Smith?", she asked again, catching him distracted, once more. '_I can't believe I have to do it again..._', she thought in irritation, as she said flatly: "**Doctor**?".

**That** got his attention.

"Yes, Ms. Jyung?", his head spun towards her, a big goofy grin in his face.

"It's _Doctor_ Jyung, _Mr. Smith_", she corrected him.

"Oh, yes of course, forgot you were talking to me", he explained.

'_Honestly, even the lowest threat patients in this place are out of their minds!_'

"Smith, in all seriousness, can you tell me something, just one thing?"

"Of course, for your sake, I'll try to limit myself", he replied joyfully, unsuspecting of his obnoxious tone.

"Why do you like being called '_Doctor_'?", she asked him, thinking about all those psychiatrists and therapists' warning about dealing with the inmates - '_correction_, _patients_' - and their psychoses.

Smith just stared her back, caught by surprise, apparently.

"I'll tell you if you tell me why **I** cannot call you '_Miss_', Ms. Jyung."

Nina sighed.

'_It's going to be one of those days, isn't it?_', she wondered.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	10. Closing the Exordium

_**I do not own Doctor Who or Justice League. Just making sure you all got that!**_

**(Word of warning, it's an experiment, just take it as it goes… there IS a reason why, trust me.)**

* * *

_**I was going to post this chapter and the previous one together, as a single one, but they didn't feel all that much connected, so I adapted them a little... just to make them better to read.**_

_**Also, to those who noticed my delay on the story, yes, I'm sorry.**_

_**The pacing is mainly my fault, just check how many ongoing stories I have, at my profile!**_

_**Plus I'm the current editor of The Idealist and his stories, so that takes time to spell check and discuss with him new ideas and stuff.**_

_**AND, also, I have a Real Life job + my home is getting a major makeover in the last few months.**_

_**So, yeah, the fact that I can ****still**** publish anything, at all, is worthy of praise, isn't it?**_

_**But enough about me!**_

_**Allonz-y!**_

* * *

Arkham Asylum

Same day

Some time later

"Where is Smith?", asked Aparecida, finally arriving at the medical doctor's office. "You released him already?"

"And good morning to you too, Head Nurse", replied a irritated Doctor Jyung.

Aparecida gave her one of her should-be-patented looks. Nina shrugged it off.

"Sorry, that was uncalled for", she replied. '_But try to have a reasonable conversation with a guy like John Smith and let's see _**_you_**_ stay on a good mood..._'.

Nina took a sip of her morning coffee. "So?", asked the irritated nurse.

"Yes, I have released the patient already, not much harm done to him by Braines. You can check Doctor Taylor's report too, if you want, same thing", she offered her the patient's folder.

Aparecida took it and gave it a quick read.

All seemed to be in order, so she felt a little better.

In all honesty, she did not like seeing anyone get hurt in the Asylum.

Of course, she had lived enough to know sometimes some excessive force may be needed to stop some of the more dangerous patients, but, overall, she always strived to find ways of better dealing with those she treated.

And that was one of the things she had asked ('_demanded is more like it_', she admitted to herself) from the new Chief of Security, Mr. Casey, a new approach on dealing with their patients.

* * *

_'The problem is people around here think less violence means less control, Mr. Casey', she had told him. 'If you want to survive this job, you better understand now what I've been telling those administrators all these years, less violence means...'_

_'More security', Aaron Siafi Casey, the newly arrived Chief complemented back. 'I read your previous recommendations, all of them to the heart, trust me, Head Nurse. I particularly liked that bit on patient approach and social rewarding, much more insightful than many psychiatrist, if I may say so... In fact, I believe we can help each other greatly, Miss Santos...'_

* * *

"Nina?", Aparecida called the Doctor up. "Have you noticed... anything strange about Smith?"

Doctor Jyung looked back at her, deadpan.

"... **_stranger_**, I mean", she corrected herself. "Did he say anything you might think is important to report?"

The doctor sat on her work stool, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"Look, Head Nurse, I know how things are, in the Asylum. In fact, the only reason I'm here is because I'm an actual medic, not a '_shrink_'. God knows how glad I am not to be the one dealing with the likes of Dent or Zsash..."

"**Zsasz**", the older woman corrected her. "Victor Zsasz."

"Whatever, the point is, I'm okay dealing with the lesser cuckoos of the bunch, but, truth is, they still **are** cuckoos, nonetheless", Nina said, pointing at her board. "See? Invisible extra limbs pain, technophobia, eating compulsion disorders, these people invent all kind of stuff just to show up and waste my time."

"You shouldn't treat your patients like that", Aparecida warned the Doctor, not impressed by her lack of tact. "Most of them **do** have problems, _Miss_ Jyung."

The younger medic stared her back coldly, Aparecida not aware of the previous talk Nina had with Smith.

"As I said, '_whatever_'", was her dry reply. "Smith is just a big mouthed nuisance, one minute he's chatting about _haikus_, then about Neogothic architecture, or the disposition of the trees on the garden! He's not '_nuts_'-nuts, as far as I can tell, just loves to draw attention to himself. You know he started complaining about a headache and asked me if I could fetch him an aspirin, only to later remember he was allergic to it? What kind of man does things like that?"

The Head Nurse gave the medic the fold back.

"Maybe a guy who wanted to see if his Doctor was someone who bothered reading his folder at all", Aparecida said. "Page One, Miss Jyung. '_Patient's Allergies_'. Not that hard to find to someone interested in doing their job..."

With that, the Head Nurse left.

Doctor Nina Jyung, who did not bother looking back, turned her computer on to check her next patient.

And, if she had been paying attention, she would remember the crucial fact that, previously, she had not left her computer _off_...

* * *

John Smith laid on his bed, the bandage on his forehead kind of itchy.

(But the chest pains were the ones that really bothered him lately...)

Staring the ceiling, his thoughts focused on last night, his mind keeping track of time.

'_Soon_', he caught himself expectant, as he had placed all the pieces in their right places during the last few days.

He could only expect the players to move as they were supposed to.

'_Taking a huge gamble here, Doctor_', he admitted to himself. '_Playing with the lives of everybody inside these walls, including yourself, for the sake of continuity..._'

('_It's not like this is the first time I've done it... or the last_', he replied to himself.)

The Doctor reached for under the pillow, retrieving his red and blue yo-yo.

Checking into the Asylum had been easy.

Keeping his '_tools_' safe and secret, though, had been a bit more complicated.

(Just a bit.)

'_Security here is nothing to laugh at_', he admitted, proud once more of Aparecida dos Santos, wonderful Aparecida.

The Doctor sighed. He knew that **it** was about to happen.

Hadn't count on how long **it** was taking on it happening, though.

'_Time goes by... so boring... so... standard..._', he complained to himself once again.

(He was also seriously missing his sonic screwdriver already... which only made his boredom grow even more.)

He checked the toy a bit, turning it to one side to another.

'_Soon_', he mentally noted.

* * *

**To be continued...**


End file.
